


two points

by colorsofmyseason



Series: a thousand senses [4]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Arsenal FC, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24072910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorsofmyseason/pseuds/colorsofmyseason
Summary: Hector Bellerin reflects about being a wizard at Arsenal, supernatural life in England, and most importantly his teammate, Bernd Leno.
Relationships: Bernd Leno/Marc-André ter Stegen
Series: a thousand senses [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718806
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	two points

**Author's Note:**

> So, this time I guess I'll try my hand in writing a story about my favorite club in the world: Arsenal!
> 
> (Surprising? Yes, I'm surprised as well, don't ask why I love them, just don't)
> 
> Still set in the same universe as [passing the limits of your senses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852428/chapters/57326377).
> 
> Featuring: wizard!Hector, light elemental!Bernd, wizard!Lucas Torreira, shifter!Auba (mentioned), wizard!Santi Cazorla (mentioned), and minor Steno.
> 
> Also, I have nothing against Chelsea, really, I just need to put on a little creepy fact about them for the sake of the plot.
> 
> Warning: English is not my first language.

Being a wizard in a team like Arsenal is difficult, as Hector Bellerin knows better than anyone.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves Arsenal. He also thinks he has a good relationship with his teammates there, and he prides the fact that it’s so rare for them to have a full-blown fight among each other. But he won’t lie, he knows that there’s something _lacking_ in them as a team, and their performance in the league nowadays has been dismal, though it’s getting better steadily after the introduction of their new coach.

As a wizard, Hector understands that it’s his duty to make sure things go well for Arsenal during games. He doesn’t use his magic to cheat, of course not, it’s been illegal for decades. But even if there’s no rule against that, Hector loves football and respects the game too much to defile it with dirty magical tricks. Still, he knows that magical interference is strong in the world of football, that every pitch in the world is layered with spells and curses alike, some thicker than the others that Hector has long given up trying to make out the ends of them, and he has to protect his team from those things, or else things can go _very bad_. Well, worse than what they’re currently having, at least.

It is hard work, and Hector knows he’s far from being the most expert wizard in the world, but he does his best, even during those times when he’s injured and has to watch from the side, because there’s no one else Arsenal can depend on in this matter. He sometimes misses Santi in times like this. It was hard enough with the two of them back then, and now that he has to work by himself, no wonder his team is down in the dumps. Still, that doesn't keep him from trying.

Which brings him to one Tuesday night in Stamford Bridge, where Arsenal is facing Chelsea in a Premier League fixture. Auba is off today, so he’s captaining, and as he leads his teammates to the pitch before the game to familiarize themselves with the ground, he takes a good look around it, reading the lines of spells crisscrossing all over it.

He never particularly likes Stamford Bridge. The amount of dark magic there is always a tad too excessive for a football stadium, Hector thinks. Probably that has something to do with the dead man’s ashes buried under their penalty spot, or probably it’s just the kind of magic they used to practice there back in the past, he doesn’t know. But he knows that means he needs to tread his magic carefully in order not to exhaust himself until the end of the game.

Lucas is staring at him anxiously, and from the corner of his eyes Hector can see tiny sparks of magic jumping at the tip of the small midfielder’s fingers. He shakes his head at the Uruguayan and gestures at him to find his position. Lucas is a nice lad, and not a bad wizard per se, but he hasn’t had enough experience handling British magic like Hector does, and the last thing they need is the Council breathing down their necks for violating the Statute of Secrecy or something like that.

The warm-up period ends quickly. Too quickly for Hector’s liking, maybe. But he dutifully leads his team back to the away dressing room, puts on his kit, and then walks back to the tunnel.

“Hecky?”

Hector turns around to see Leno, holding something white on his hand. “You forget your armband.”

Hector turns pink as he approaches the keeper to get the captain armband. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I don’t know how I managed to forget it, guess I just have a lot in my mind today.”

Leno is silent, but Hector can feel the German keeper’s eyes staring right into him, studying him. “Are you okay??”

“I’m okay,” Hector assures. “Just a little nervous. We are facing Chelsea today, after all, and they’re going to be a tough opponent. But I’m sure we’ll be able to get through.”

Leno only nods and gives the armband to Hector. As he does so, their fingers touched for one-nth second, and Hector is startled as he feels tiny sparks of electricity jumping from the keeper’s hand. For a few seconds, he only stands there, staring at Leno.

The keeper doesn’t seem to feel anything though, instead he just gives Hector a confused look. “What is it again, Hecky?? Is there something wrong??”

“Nothing,” Hector mumbles and wraps the captain armband on his left arm. He still feels Leno’s eyes on him, but he decides not to say anything for now and just gestures to his other teammates to follow him to the tunnel.

He’s been playing with Bernd Leno for almost two seasons, but there are still many things he doesn’t know about the German keeper. Leno is always shy and reserved, never talks much in the dressing room, and has never been too assertive during games either though he always makes spectacular saves. But there have been some incidents that leaves Hector wondering whether the keeper is not particularly _normal_. Those things are never big, and honestly Hector can find explanations for it, but as people say, twice is a coincidence, but three’s a pattern.

Power-sensing has never been Hector’s strong suit, so it’s hard for him to determine whether Leno is a super or not. He keeps his suspicions alive towards the keeper, though. Moreover, Leno is German, and Mesut and Musti have once told Hector that German national team is practically saturated with magic and power. But then again, Hector has never seen him with restriction bracelet on, so either he has full control towards his abilities, or he has none at all. Asking Mesut or Musti can be an option, of course, but Hector doesn’t want them to break a confidence or something.

His train of thoughts are interrupted as the officials start to walk to the pitch, and he trudges along with them. The lines of spells are visible again, somehow even brighter than before, and Hector takes a deep breath. He can think about Bernd Leno later. For now, he has a quest to do and a match to win.

-

They don’t win at Stamford Bridge. David Luiz was red-carded after a particularly hard tackle towards Tammy Abraham, and they’re barely able to hold back Chelsea with only ten men on the pitch. For awhile it seemed like Chelsea would win, but a late goal from Hector managed to save their face, and they ended the game with a 2-2 draw.

Mikel doesn’t look too happy with the result, and he addresses a few choice words towards David and Musti in the dressing room, but later admits that the game has been hard and they’ve tried their best. After talking for a few more minutes and praising Gabriel and Hector for their goals, he tells them all to shower and then gets to the bus.

A number of Arsenal players immediately grab their respective toiletries and for awhile there’s a little squabble in front of the shower room as they fight over their turns. Hector doesn’t join them. He’s patient enough to wait until the shower’s a bit deserted, besides he feels like he needs to sit a bit after exhausting both his magic and physical strength during the game.

He looks around the dressing room. Some are showering indeed, some are making a line in front of the shower room, and some are sitting on their respective places just like him. And from the corner of his eyes, he sees Leno is among those who remain on their places. That’s not a peculiar thing by itself, Leno has never been among the ones who have to hog the shower first, but the expression on his face draws Hector’s attention immediately.

The keeper looks somewhat angry at himself, which is understandable, but there’s also something that resembles misery on his face. His fingers, already free from his gloves, are twitching as if he just got electrocuted. Hector looks at Leno and wonders whether the keeper’s blaming himself for conceding two goals. He knows it’s not purely Leno’s fault, all of them weren’t in their best performance today and Leno himself had made a few good saves to keep them afloat, but as he’s about to tell Leno that, he sees Mesut has beat him to it. The two of them talks quietly in German, and seeing how Mesut has his hand on Leno’s shoulder, Hector assumes that the midfielder is trying to calm the keeper down. Smiling at himself, Hector finally grabs his toiletries and joins his friends on the line.

Soon, all players have showered and changed and gotten into the bus. Hector has already chosen a seat on the back of the bus and is about to fall asleep when Mikel approaches him and prods him awake.

“Hecky, do you know where Leno is??” the coach asks, worry clear in his voice.

Hector’s eyes shoot open at Mikel’s question and he immediately looks around the bus. Indeed, there’s no sign of any blonde, pale, German goalkeeper anywhere in there. Frowning, he tries to recall where he last saw Leno. He distinctly remembers that Leno had yet to enter the shower room when he finished, so the keeper must’ve been among the last ones to shower himself, and that means when he himself is finished, it’s possible that there’s no one else in the dressing room, and no one to see what he does or where he goes afterwards.

“I think he must’ve been still in the dressing room,” Hector says, trying to sound as casual as possible. “I’m going to check. Give me a minute, coach.”

He flees before Mikel can say anything, and immediately heads back to the stadium. As he makes his way inside, he hopes that Bernd hasn’t done something extreme like running away or whatever. Well, he knows that with Leno’s personality, it’s highly unlikely, but still, sometimes desperate person can do desperate things. Mentally he kicks himself for not paying more attention to the keeper, especially after he himself has seen Leno looking downhearted after the game.

Finally Hector arrives at the away dressing room. The door’s slightly ajar, and he can see a faint light emanating from the gap on the door, blinking on and off at regular intervals. He frowns since he doesn’t remember the light at that dressing room being broken earlier (after all, it’s still Stamford Bridge, and despite of the dark magic on their ground, they at least know how to treat their guests well). And come to think of it, the colour of the lights weren’t yellow either.

Quietly, Hector takes a peek inside the dressing room, breathing as quietly as possible, careful not to touch the door lest his presence will be known. As his brain finally registers what’s inside, he spends a few minutes trying to pick his jaw off the floor.

Five golden orbs of light, each the size of a tennis ball, are floating there on the air, surrounding a figure that Hector immediately recognizes as Leno. The keeper is sitting on the floor, his back leaning to the wall. From where he stands, Hector can hear the keeper breathing heavily, as if he’s about to break into tears any time.

It takes a few more seconds for Hector to realize that Leno’s holding a phone to his ear and is talking to someone.

“ _Ich habe es vermasselt_ …”

German. Leno is speaking in German. So it’s one of his old teammates from Bayer Leverkusen, or his friend from national team?

“ _Wir haben zwei Punkte verloren und es ist alles meine Schuld_ …”

Hector doesn’t understand German, but there’s something in Leno’s voice that resembles desperation and perhaps…slight disappointment?? Is he talking about the game?? For a second, Hector considers using magic to enable him to understand Leno’s words – he has a simple translation spell for that – but a throb in his head tells him that he’s almost depleted his reserve already, and he doesn’t wish to risk himself collapsing from lack of energy. Besides, Leno probably won’t appreciate it if he knows Hector is trying to eavesdrop on him. So, the defender just leans to the wall outside of the door, waiting for Leno to finish, all the while thinking of what he just saw.

So, apparently, he’s been right all this time – Bernd Leno is no ordinary person. The little light show in the dressing room is proof enough. It’s not magic, though – spells and charms always leave the slightest bit of trace on the air, but he doesn’t feel it around Leno. It’s light manipulation, simple and true, in its purest form, brought by someone who’s literally born to do so. And it’s beautiful.

He briefly wonders why he didn’t recognize it sooner, but the answer comes straight away. Supernatural life in England has always been slightly different compared to the other countries. England is all about subtlety and secrecy. ‘Normal’ people isn’t allowed to know about the supers, and the Council keep themselves fully separate from the ‘normal’ government. And with all those warnings about “Don’t make yourself known” hanging around their necks on daily basis, it’s no wonder that sometimes even two supers can play together in the same club for years and never find out about each other. Hector knows about Lucas (and Santi) because wizards always recognize each other, he knows about Mesut and Musti because those Germans have told him themselves, and he knows about Auba because he once caught a gigantic black panther lying on the striker’s bed. But Bernd Leno certainly knows how to guard his secret that it has to take a slight break-down for Hector to unveil it.

He’s too busy with his thoughts that he barely hears Leno saying, “ _Lieb dich auch_ ”, followed by the golden lights dying down, and Hector is startled when the door is pushed open and the blonde keeper is suddenly standing in front of him.

“Hecky??” Hector has no idea that Leno’s voice can get so high, almost squeaky, and he almost feels bad as he sees fear flashing inside the keeper’s eyes.

Quickly Hector reaches out to pat Leno’s shoulder. “Calm down,” he says in a voice that he hopes is soothing enough. “I came because the coach was looking for you, and well, the whole team is already in the bus right now, waiting for us.”

A faint pink colour makes its way to Leno’s face. “I’m sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I was just a bit down after the game and I just needed some time to calm myself down…”

“I know,” Hector inhales. “But, Leno… I should’ve said this to you earlier, but this draw isn’t your fault. You made great saves, you helped to keep us in the game. You’ve tried your best and we appreciate your efforts. Don’t take this too hard on yourself. And even if you think so, you can talk to us, tell us how you feel. This season has been hard for all of us, and I don’t want you to feel like you and yourself alone is responsible for this mess.”

Leno smiles, a thin, soft smile, but it lights up his whole face, even brighter than the golden orbs of light he produced earlier. “Thank you, Hecky. I appreciate it. Really.”

Hector nods and gestures to Leno to follow him, and after some hesitation, the keeper does, catching up to Hector quite easily thanks to his long legs. For a few seconds, nothing is spoken between them.

“Anyway, nice light show you did there,” Hector says, glancing a bit at the keeper to see his reaction.

If Leno could turn even paler, he would’ve done so. The keeper stops there in his track, staring right into Hector. “You…you saw that??”

“Kinda hard to miss, isn’t it,” Hector sighs. “If you want to do that you should’ve chosen somewhere less conspicuous than the dressing room. But don’t worry,” he quickly adds, seeing the horror in Leno’s eyes, “I’m not going to tell anyone. Would be kinda hypocritical of me if I rat you out while I myself am not that _ordinary_ either.”

Leno blinks, once, twice, and Hector can see the gears practically turning under the keeper’s blonde hair before he gasps, “You… So you’re…?”

“I’m a wizard,” Hector confirms. “I’ve been suspicious about you since long, but I’m not good at power-detecting, so I just figured out about you today.” He laughs. “I have to say, you’re good at keeping this shit to yourself, though. And you’ve never used restriction bracelet either.”

“Well, when I first heard that Arsenal was interested in me, I called Mesut and Musti, and they told me about the Council, and warned me to keep my ability hidden at all costs,” Leno explains, scratching his head. “I don’t use my power often at first place either, so it’s not hard for me to do so, and I like to think of myself as having good control of it, so I’ve never used the bracelet. But during…hard times, I tend to feel a need to let it go a bit. It helps me relax.”

Hector nods. He often feels it too, mostly after particularly gruelling matches which end in losses, the urge to let his magic out and just do _something_. He never follows the urge, of course, he’s not _that_ crazy, but he understands Leno’s feelings about it.

“Well, as I’ve said earlier, I won’t tell anyone about you,” Hector says, patting the keeper again but this time on his back. “Well, as long as you don’t tell anyone about me either. Fair enough??”

Leno’s relieved smile is the only answer he needs.

-

“Anyway, I have a question. Who did you call earlier??”

“Marc.”

“Who??”

“Marc-Andre ter Stegen. You know, Barcelona’s keeper??”

“…Don’t you guys hate each other???”

“…It’s complicated, actually, and yes, I guess at some point in our lives, we _did_ hate each other…but we don’t. Not anymore.”

“…Oh my God. You’re _fucking_ him, aren’t you?? You’re actually fucking him??”

“I prefer the term ‘dating’, but…”

“Bernd Leno, I’ve had enough surprise in my life today thanks to you, I don’t need another one!”

“…You asked.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Ich habe es vermasselt –_ I messed up
> 
>  _Wir haben zwei Punkte verloren und es ist alles meine Schuld –_ We dropped two points and it’s all my fault
> 
> Thank you for the lovely [aprilblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilblue) for correcting my German.
> 
> Kudos, comments, and constructive criticisms are appreciated!
> 
> Check my [tumblr](https://colorsofmyseason.tumblr.com/tagged/fanfiction) for more fic dumps/entries about my supernatural AU!


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